Can't Even Handle Me: A BIC Collection
by J. Maria
Summary: Ten's tripping around time and space all alone. Whoever will he stumble onto next? A BIC Challenge collection. Multicross.


Series: 25 for 25  
Title: Five: Nothing until now  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Hanna Barbara owns the gang, RTD owns The Doctor. I own Nada.  
Spoilers: General, and post series 4  
Series Summary: Twenty-five stories and crossings of worlds (read: insanity) to celebrate twenty-five years. Now taking requests!  
Part Summary: They solve mysteries and get into a lot of trouble  
Words: 925  
Title Quote Source: It Looks Like Rain by Jann Arden  
Dedication: Eureka for the fandoms.  
A/N: This is the Tenth Doctor (because I _just_ caught up on series 4 and got the complete specials collection with my tax return check (wow, a whole forty bucks spent on me - the rest goes to pay off debt. Yay.) so I haven't seen any of the new new Who. And, honestly, I didn't really get into Who until Tennant started playing him (well, technically, _Jack_ brought me in, Ten wouldn't let me leave.)  
A/N2: And the whole thing started off with a piece of facebook flair my sister sent me. Also, I apologize for my Scooby voice in advance.

_****___

25 for 25

  
Five: Nothing until now

The Doctor stumbled a bit out of the TARDIS. Another shaky landing, and sadly, another one alone. But, he wasn't going to dwell on that. No. He was going to see where and when he had landed. He took a deep breath and stared at the oddly dilapidated building - wait, check that, a warehouse. On a lonely pier. With a great big spot-light on it.

"Oooh, that can't be good," he said to himself, a big gleeful smile breaking out over his lips. "I love a good mystery!"

He loped nimbly over thick coiled ropes and sundry to try and pinpoint where and when he'd actually landed this time. Pulling out his glasses - like he _really_ needed them to read, all just for effect, really - he scanned the bronze plaque by the doorway. Doing a quick little scan with his trusty sonic screwdriver, he detected tiny traces of -

"That can't be right," he muttered to himself, jerking upright. "That _really_ can't be right, cause I'm fairly certain they've been dealt with. All of them. Not a single -"

"Jinkies, where'd you come from, mister?"

He jerked around and spotted two, well - they weren't teenagers, really, but they looked like teenagers. Maybe from the 1970s? Oh, he liked the Seventies. All flower power and Woodstock. A grin lit over his face as he remembered those times.

"Common misconception of nomenclature actually, I'm the Doctor," he grinned, staring at the dark haired girl in an orange jumper and miniskirt with knee socks and Mary-Janes, and the shaggy haired man with a green v-neck t-shirt and baggy khaki pants. "And you are?"

"Like, you talk funny, man."

"Doctor, not man." Well, not a _human_ man.

"Doctor? What's a doctor doing in an abandoned warehouse in the Peak district?" the girl, who still rudely had not introduced herself, mused.

"Just passing through, honest. And you would be?" he pressed again. Honestly, if they didn't hurry it along, he'd have to do all the running by himself.

"I'm Shaggy, she's Velma. We're like famous, man."

And he was slowly starting to remember why he _disliked_ the Seventies.

"A doctor, in an abandoned warehouse in the Peak district where people have gone missing for days, with bloody shoes popping up. It's not even simple corporate espinoge anymore, and by my calculations, it's going to get even worse!" Velma gasped. Her eyes narrowed.

"Well, good thing I'm not that sort of doctor," the Doctor grinned, which always worked with the ladies in the past. Apparently, Velma was not such a lady.

"That doesn't explain what -"

A sleek form raced out of the darkness, slipping and sliding into Shaggys legs. The Doctor's grin only widened.

"I should have known, staring me in the face the whole time! I just knew someone had - quite literally - set a watchdog on the family Slitheen!" he cackled.

"Ruh-roh," the big Great Dane's eyes widened as he set his gaze on the Doctor.

"What's that accent for? Trying to blend in?"

"Rits... a... Rombie!" the dog nudged at the couple, sending him a mutinous glare.

"Zombies don't exist, Scooby," Velma frowned.

"Like, its a zombie smorgasbord!" Shaggy got a very paranoid look in his eyes.

"I keep telling you, it's probably just a man in a mask...who turned out to be a cannibal," Velma seemed to pale a bit as one of the barrels tipped over what appeared to be the missing people bits.

"Oh honestly!" Scooby snapped suddenly, a crisp British accent replacing his doggy lisp as a heavy paw slapped at his collar.

Both Shaggy and Velma got a very glazed over look on their faces, acting like the zombies they were searching for. Scooby sent an exasperated look at the Doctor before elongating his spine and coming to stand on his hind legs.

"And that's the Dorif species for you," he grinned at the dog.

"Yes, we're all about the checks and balances. Silly little humans with their Scooby Snacks and inquisitive minds," Scooby sighed. "And you haven't even _met_ the other two airheads I have to deal with. Not to mention the lack of proper dress etiquette! Honestly, hanging about in my bare _skin_. And I went to Navelhar University for the Gifted Dorif for _this_?"

"And the Slitheen family?"

"Eating people indiscriminately. Leaving bloody bits. Man in a monster mask -"

"More like alien in a human mask," the Doctor grinned.

"Yes, but try telling that to this lot!" Scooby snorted. "Mind you, these two are better than the other two."

"Yeah, but Dorif's mainly handle... ooohhh," the Doctor eyed the couple again. "Checks and Balances, and Guardianship of Misplaced Souls. Forgot that bit of the motto, didn't you?"

"It is part of the job. I get a twenty year vacation once these two realize they're soul mates from another planet. Then the cycle starts all over again, with two new annoying sidekicks." Scooby shrugged. "And the Slitheen family are _determined_ to exterminate them before the cycle gets reset and I get my vacation, thus the sloppy job here."

"Bet they didn't count on a Dorif at the door."

"Oh, a _dog_ joke. What a novel concept, Time Lord."

"Well, how are you gonna explain me off, assuming you don't need my help?"

"They won't remember anything other than running from a man in a mask."

"About that," the Doctor frowned. "Everything's about a man in a mask, but a _talking dog_ they can accept like it's nothing?"

"The Scooby snacks are laced with a mild hallucinogenic."

"_Right_, the Seventies."


End file.
